The Soul of a Teacher
by Fallen Althea
Summary: Sometimes you just have to leave the world of Hogwarts' students and venture of to the minds, hearts, and souls of our dear teachers. This is their story. Each chapter will be about one of them, their life and their souls.
1. Potions

Title: The Soul of a Teacher  
  
Author: Althea  
  
Disclaimer: None of the canon characters are mine (obviously). Just the plot, Snape's father and the character Lucy.  
  
Spoilers: For all four books.  
  
Summary: It's time to take a break from the life of our Hogwarts' Students. Let us now focus on the other important part of the lives in the school. The Hogwarts' staff, our dear teachers. This is their story, this is their lives, their souls... Each chapter will deal with an individual teacher and focus on his/her life, past, secrets and journey deep into their souls.  
  
Author's Note: This is already an edited version of the previous one. I added something thanks to "Ms/Mr. Indian Reviewer" (sorry i forgot your name!). Thanks a lot for reviewing! This is also supposed to be a prologue to another one of my stories which is "The Final Battle" dealing with the great war that will happen on Harry's 7th year. Also please read that one and review.   
  
The Soul of a Teacher  
  
Chapter One: Potions  
  
Severus Snape looked up from the thick yellowish parchment on top of his desk that he had been sitting on for the past two hours, dropping the quill that he had been holding and finally stretching his cramped fingers. He had been writing his lesson plan for the week and got a bit carried away that resulted to a whole two hours of non-stop writing and painful wrists.  
  
He looked and observed his students one by one who are at the moment too busy making, rather unsuccessfully, their latest potion mixture to notice his out of character observation. He gazed at them, looking at the gleaming and curious eyes of his young and aspiring students thinking and wondering what might happen to them once they leave the peaceful and secure fortress of their dear school Hogwarts. To leave behind this sanctuary and journey into their foretold lives and destiny. If there is ever such a thing as fate or destiny or foretold future.  
  
He set his eyes on young Mr. Potter mixing the potion on his couldron incorrectly and wondered if will he ever see his life or even daylight for that matter, after his school days here in Hogwarts, that is if he ever lives to even graduate or will he suffer that inevitable fate that was foretold by that annoying and bogus Professor Trelawny. He already knew that almost everybody in the Hogwarts' Staff thinks she's just an old fraud, even Dumbledore, but maybe, just maybe, there's a truth and foreboding in that old woman's supposed to be fake and laughable predictions.  
  
The whole school, he knew, thought that he hated Potter with every fiber of his being, but as far as confessing what he really felt, he doesn't hate the Potter boy. Just mere annoyed by his foolishness, ignorance and his big round innocent eyes. Because in that boy's eyes he sees the James Potter he once knew and hated. But that hatred vanished the day that James saved him, and got replaced quickly with an emotion that Severus was familiar with yet it was an emotion that he did not dare to admit.  
  
Envy.  
  
Yes, he was jelous and envious of the ever so brave and valiant James Potter who seems to have every good thing in the world. He has Lily, his friends who do him no good, good grades, perfect place on the Quidditch Team... he has everything that Severus ever dreamed of when they were still at school.  
  
And when he look at Potter Junior, he just had to admit that, in a way, seeing him brings back that pain and suffering. Looking at him at the corridors surrounded by friends and girls brings back the Hatred and the Envy, and somewhere between that he imagined what his life would be if he would just be like Potter and his father. Maybe he wouldn't fall under the spell of the Dark Lord, maybe he wouldn't be a disgrace to his father...  
  
Maybe...  
  
Standing up from his rigid and uncomfortable chair, he walked around the dungeons that served as his Potions classroom and observed more about his unique class. Of course, he threw an insult here and there to those Gryffindors, especially that Mr. Longbottom who couldnt even differentiate a couldron from a cooking pot, just for the hell of it and praised his own house for no apparent reason. Students see him as biased and mean but he knew better than to not make his students' life a living hell. By doing this, he is actually preparing them for the mean, biased and unfair world that they will embarke once they get to leave Dumbledore's guidance and care.  
  
It's actually funny to see how these children seemed so innocent and ignorant at the same time to Severus's eyes. For him, they knew nothing, nothing at all about the world and how it goes. It doesnt just revolves and rotates and performs the repetition over and over again but at the same time, it changes and it grows and no matter if that change means good or bad, muggles and wizards alike have to endure the consequences and the after effect of it. And over proud wizards say that that they have nothing in common with muggles.  
  
His father had been telling him that since the day that he could understand english, but even though how many times that he tried to plant that in his son's thick but ingenious head, look now what good it did to him. A fallen Death Eater and a Potions Teacher with not even proper pension and enough water to rinse his hair off that un-stylish and horrid oil that seems to be extracting from his own scalp. But yet, no, he did not blame his father for what happened to him. What became of him is his fault and he takes full responsibility of it.  
  
He moved steathily unto the center aisle, still looking after his students, making sure that none of them gets blown up and heard a comment that would have made him laugh if not for the 'sulky' and 'broady' mood that he was currently having.  
  
"Look at Professor Snape." Lavander started the conversation. "Look how lonely he is. Do you think he had ever been in love?"  
  
"What? What are you talking about?"  
  
And it was Lavander Brown and Parvati Patil. He had been feeling quite generous earlier that afternoon at the start of the class and he put them in partners with the same house just to avoid another argument from Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy or Mr. Longbottom blowing up, yet another couldron just because of his Slytherin partner's idea of a joke. But that proves to be unwise since his students now have complete permission and advantage of talking and gossiping in class even at his presence.  
  
"I mean, look at him. Doesn't he ever get tired of living alone in his cold dark dungeons with no one to talk to-"  
  
"Don't be stupid, Lavander. Of course he has someone. Like... like... Well i guess he talks to his potions, seeing how he loves this stinking liquids."  
  
"That's not what i meant."  
  
"I could just imagine it." Parvati said, her eyes gleaming in mischief. Then she started to whisper in an exaggerated motion. "'Oh dear Veritaserum! How I love your sweet honesty! How I dore your cruel insanity! How I--"  
  
"Parvati, shut up!" Lavander tried to warn her friend but it was too late. She knew that the object of conversation has been listening to their talk since the beginning and she can just do nothing but bow and turn beat red.  
  
"Just WANT to just take you in my arms and--"  
  
"That will be all Ms. Patil." Severus announced loudly causing the other students to turn and see what's going on. "Although i admire your passion and your love to my potions, I think you're going to far. You should approach me one day and let us discuss your current issue about your fatal attraction to the Veritaserum. Maybe there is still a spot for you in St. Mungo's, I'd like to reserve a spot as soon a possible."  
  
Snickers and giggles filled the dungeons. One point for the Potions Man!  
  
After the laughter died, Ms. Brown and Ms. Patil still beat red, Severus urged his class to settle down and finish their potions or he will make them eat fresh snake's skin, he got into thinking again, lost in his own world.  
  
Oh, yes. He had been in love once, and it's not the full slutty sex shinannigans that most of today's youngsters have. It was actually real and pure. He could almost remember that time as if it was just yesterday if he did not pushed the memory to the bottom of his brain just to forget the bittersweet past.  
  
Her name was Lucy, and she is not the Mary Sue character that others dread her to be, nor is she Lily Potter that various people thought had a thing with Severus in their school years. They actually met in their Potions class and became partners for an assignment. They became close friends and it slowly developed into something more, much to Severus's joy.  
  
After that, things became more brighter in Severus' life. Suddenly, Sirius Black's taunts and practical jokes on him doesn't seem so bad and intorrelable. Suddenly, life has taken a three hundred and sixty degrees turn for the better and he could not dreamt anymore than what he have at that perfect moment.  
  
But of course, nothing in Severus' life is normal nor perfect. He could not have a moment of pure happiness as long as his life was concerned. It just all had to be taken away from him.  
  
Five months later of pure bliss, his own father killed the only woman he had ever loved in his whole damned existance.  
  
"Why father, why?" he once cried. He was only fourteen years old at that time and crying was not yet forbidden, although just merely humiliating. But he did not care. He wanted to know what happened. What happened to the only good thing that God had given him.  
  
"You know why, Severus." his father had answered him with his usual cold and curt tone of voice.  
  
Severus just remained silent and looked at his merciless father directly at his eye.  
  
"Enlighten me, Father." he answered, feeling as if there is nothing more to live for.  
  
"I taught you to be strong and feel no weakness, Severus." he started, staring at him back, his cold grey eyes bearing no pity or mercy at his own son, his own blood. "I taught you how to be great, to win and take no failure from anybody. I taught you every lesson and rule that you have to learn to have victory and to fullfill what HE has in store for you. And yet you disappoint me child. I didn't teach you to love. I didn't teach you to care. Because loving and caring will just bring you weakness and failure and dishonor to this family, you hear me? I just got to do it. You're getting weak, Severus, and sooner or later, you'll become one of those 'Good Wizards' and just throw your family's honor in the trash. And I cannot let you do that. I just can not."  
  
After that, he knew that things will never be the same again. He will never love again and he will never feel anything again except for hatred and discrimination for the things and the people who made him into who he is now. He vowed that he will find and get his revenge, sooner or later and he won't die and rest until he puts justice to what happened to him.  
  
Because of that, he joined the Death Eaters and the leagues of Voldemort and brought terror to the whole wizarding world for over a decade and, yes, he had his revenge by killing muggles and wizards for no apparent reason, yet, he did not feel fully satisfied in what he is doing. He is once one of the most trusted Death Eater of the most evil and powerful wizard that has ever lived but yet, he feels as if he is nothing but mere single grain of sand in a vast wide desert full of it.  
  
And with his mind set and his fighting spirit and will stronger than ever, he turned his back to all of those horrid things that he had done and ran to the sanctuary of Dumbledore's fortress. And there he welcomed him with open arms.  
  
But that's all ancient history now, and what he has to do is face the inevitable future head on, with no one and nothing holding him back. His past must now be laid to rest just like the frozen fears that has been creeping over and over inside his brain. He must let go of all those right now or as soon as possible and prepare for the worst. Because the worst will come and nobody is too sure if they will see daylight again to tell the tale.  
***  
  
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	2. Transfigurations

The Soul Of A Teacher  
  
By: Althea  
  
Disclaimer: All canon characters are from JK Rowling, while other characters you do not recognize and the plot, is mine.  
  
Spoilers: All four books  
  
Rating: PG-13 (can go to R)  
  
Summary: It's time to take a break from the Hogwarts students and settle in for the one of the most important part of the school. Our teachers. This is their story, this is their life, their love and their past. Let's venture out to the souls of our dear teachers and see what they are really made of. And sometimes, what you see can shock you.  
  
A/N: Every chapter will deal with a single teacher, about his/her life, love, past and his/her innermost thoughts. This is supposed to be a prologue or an extra piece for my other fic, "The Final Battle" in which it's already Harry's 7th year and the battle between good and evil will finally start. The Great War is coming and it's up to Harry and friends to defeat the Evil Dark Lord once and for all. Please read it also and review.  
  
WARNING: This chapter deals with a very delicate matter involving sexual abuse. If you're uncomfortable with these stuff. Please don't read this since you'll only get offended.  
  
The Soul of a Teacher  
  
Chapter Two: Transfiguration  
  
//His eyes, his hands  
  
All over, all over my body  
  
His lips, his breath  
  
Connecting with mine  
  
His skin, my skin  
  
Rubbing with each other  
  
I tried in vain  
  
To push him away  
  
But he was too strong  
  
To strong for me to fight him  
  
I was too weak  
  
Too weak to defend myself  
  
And as he entered me  
  
I cried and screamed  
  
And felt the pain of his abuse  
  
What did I do to deserve this  
  
I asked myself as I  
  
Clawed my way out of this nightmare  
  
That fate has unfairly  
  
Brought upon me  
  
And I knew at that moment  
  
That my life would never be the same again  
  
Never going to forget the hell  
  
I've been through  
  
And now, years from all of those  
  
I stand proud  
  
Chin up in the air  
  
But the memory still remains  
  
Forever buried in my memory  
  
Forever buried in my heart  
  
Forever buried in my soul...//  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
She was only fourteen when it happened. She did not know anything then. She was an innocent. But innocence was one of the things that malice loved to corrupt. Hence, her life was changed forever.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Minerva McGonagall brought down the book that she was holding and took a deep, calming breath. Memories of pain, misery and suffering buried deep in her thoughts, never to be re-awaken again, never to be reminisce again.  
  
She got up from the big comfy cushion in her vast teacher's dorm and headed to her bedroom to get ready for the day. It was just four o'clock in the morning and she was already wide-awake, preparing for the usual busy and chaotic day ahead. She picked up her towel and walked into her own private bathroom. She opened the faucet, dipped her hand in and splashed the ice- cold water on her face. It was relieving to feel that freezing sensation as she felt her body waking up completely and shaking itself off that sleepiness and disorientation.  
  
She would not deny, if anybody would care to ask her, that for the past few months, she had been waking up in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat, breathing hard and feeling that indescribable dread that visits her every night. The reason for all of those things still remains unseen but what she knew is that the visions, the dream that she had been having had been too vivid for her to ignore.  
  
Why? Why now? Why after almost five decades of living in peace and trying to forget all of those things that happened, that the memory finally and unfortunately decided to visit her again. She did not want to remember anymore, she just want to forget the whole thing, let go and bury it in her past but, how can she when the images of that dreadful night seems to be hunting every minute of her sleep.  
  
After a few minutes later, fully bathed, clothed and ready to go to work, Minerva found herself looking at the full sized mirror in her bedroom and feeling that vogue sensation of deja vu. As if she's looking at herself forty years in her past and feeling that cold and horrible sentiment of the feeling that she had been used, somebody took advantage of her individuality, thrown it inside the trashcan and pressed it flat. She had once looked into a full-sized mirror the same way she is looking at herself right now and felt the impurity of her body and soul.  
  
Caught into an impenetrable trance, Minerva forced herself to look away and walk towards the door to visit the Teacher's Lounge and catch up with some paperwork. There are essays to be checked and news to be read. There is no time for thinking about the past. Especially when she's trying to forget it and bury it somewhere where it can no longer haunt her.  
  
Professor McGonagall dragged her heavy feet down the marble staircase to the Teacher's Lounge and pushed the door open with little effort and strode in. Professor Trelawny and Professor Sprout were already in there, both clutching identical steaming coffee cups in their hands.  
  
"Good Morning Tanah, Good Morning Sylvia!" Minerva greeted, taking her wand and Charming herself with a fresh hot coffee. They too, greeted her in return.  
  
She gladly sat beside Tanah and sipped her steaming hot coffee.  
  
"Have you heard the news today, Minerva?" Sylvia asked her as she settled down.  
  
"Why, what's new?" Minerva replied.  
  
"Oh, the usual," Sylvia said. "blood and mayhem everywhere! The Great War is starting you know?"  
  
"Ah, yes," Tanah airily and mystically said, taking a sip of her coffee. "The Great War, the final battle between good and evil... Reminds me of a certain boy who will be very affected by the upcoming war. A certain spectacled and green-eyed boy... Yes! He will play a very big role in it, but I could not assure you that it will end the way we want it to."  
  
"Oh, please, Tanah!" Sylvia begged, setting her coffee cup down on the table in front of them. "Don't start with that again!"  
  
"But the stars! The stars--"  
  
"Oh, I don't give a rat's tail about the stars!" Minerva exclaimed. "If Potter is destined to die, then he'll die. But don't tell me that it was predicted already because I believe that it is not. It is his actions that will decide what will happen to him in the future and at the end of the war. That is if the war will ever end."  
  
"I agree with you, Minerva!" Sylvia said, taking the cup again and finishing her coffee with one gulp.  
  
"All of you are the same!" Tanah exclaimed. "You all ignore the signs of the stars and my visions--"  
  
There is an audibly heard cough of disagreement coming from Sylvia's way as Tanah said that.  
  
"--but someday, when all of my predictions come true, you will all come running to me and I will have the last laugh telling you all that 'I told you so'." Tanah finished.  
  
"I'm sure we will, Trelawny," Minerva said. "I'm sure we will."  
  
After a few seconds of beautiful silence, it was Sylvia who spoke up about having to go to the Great Hall already for their breakfast.  
  
The Great Hall was packed with students dressed in their usual black ensemble, eating and chatting with each other as if nothing was wrong, nothing was out of place. Luscious and brightly colored foods and cool drinks fill the enormous and long tables of the Great Hall and the students are seated according to their appropriate house. Professor McGonagall watched as they go on their way happily and without a trace or worry.  
  
She scanned the crowd, slowly pushing her food around her plate and taking a sip of her Pumpkin Juice. Just what exactly is with Hogwarts and Pumpkin Juice? Don't the students even get sick of the orange liquid that seems to fill their cups every day?  
  
She pushed the non-sense thought away as she noticed Ms. Laura Madley's unusual behavior.  
  
Laura is currently at her fourth year of studying at Hogwarts and was sitting at the Hufflepuff table, picking her food, unmindful of her chatting and joyous schoolmates surrounding her. Minerva could tell that she was too preoccupied to think about and notice anything else. Laura sat there looking sulkily at her food, her face clouded with confusion and despair.  
  
And out of the blue, Minerva felt as if she's going to be sick as the truth and realization dawned on her. At that moment, she knew what Laura's dilemma was. She did not know how but the idea just popped into her brain, and she was sure. She knew it since she experienced and felt the exact same thing decades ago. Pain and pity filled her heart as she thought and wondered what had happened to this girl who was once full of spirit and innocent beauty.  
  
One of the Hufflepuff boys walked behind Laura's seat and Minerva watched as she recoiled in silent horror from the harmless boy. That incident just gave the Transfiguration teacher concrete evidence.  
  
She had once been like Laura, and the fear of men did not leave her until after several months and a few years of recuperating after that unfortunate night. The paranoia was gone, yes, that is true, but Minerva could confess that the mistrust and suspicion is still there, present in her mentality, present in her heart.  
  
The case of Laura Madley brought a great deal of pain and confusion in Minerva McGonagall's mind. It also brought anger and fury to Minerva's spirit. Who could do something like that to an innocent little girl? What had she done wrong to deserve that kind of treatment? To deserve that kind of disrespect to her individuality and her existence? Up until now, she could still not believe nor understand what had happened to her, and thousands of other women and girls out there, and why? Why?  
  
They certainly did not deserve that kind of inhumane handling. Nobody does. But yet, it happens and she could only wonder why it happened, why her, and what would happen to her life now, now that she's. adulterated.  
  
Breakfast ended without Minerva even realizing it, and the next thing she knew, there were only approximately fifteen students in the gigantic Great Hall compared to the hundreds that were in here just a few minutes ago. Her gaze automatically went to the seat that Laura was occupying just seconds ago and saw that she too left, her food haven't been touched as Minerva could still see the bread and eggs the house elves served for breakfast.  
  
She then hurried on to her class, which is coincidentally with the fourth year Hufflepuffs, dragging her feet as fast as it would go without her looking like she's in a great hurry. One thing she learned is that a running teacher who appeared to be late for her class is not a good example for the little kids that she punish for the exact same thing. Better be as cool and composed as possible.  
  
She arrived at her class just to see the Hufflepuffs complete, none of them appearing to be late. Oh, well, at least no student today would feel her stern and wicked wrath of giving detentions to pupils who are behind their schedules.  
  
She started her complicated lesson about transforming a ferret into a beaver, and the Hufflepuffs caught right on. Seems pretty easy they all thought, but that's before they did the hands on, which resulted into a throng of different species of feathered objects that doesn't look like a beaver at all.  
  
Laura sat there, whispering rather than saying the magic word and pointing her wand at the little ferret. She was quite the quiet one in the lot, and she knew that, since her housemates are now screaming and running around the classroom, away from the horribly changed ferrets, while she's still sitting there, lost in her own world, just dodging the flying half beaver, half ferret species. But what she didn't know is that Professor McGonagall had been observing her since the class began. She did not know that she had reawakened turmoil of feelings and memories from the old lady. She did not know that she too had suffered the same unspeakable fate decades and decades ago.  
  
The class finally ended with mutated species of ferrets running wildly everywhere and just a few beavers to put into Professor McGonagall's cage. She did not worry, however, to her student's catching up. They will learn the spell correctly just a few days of practicing. It is a complicated spell.  
  
A few seconds after the bell rang, the classroom was unsurprisingly free from students, and just full of different-colored feathers here and there. Minerva raised her hand and in one swing of her wand and with a single word from her thin and pale lips, the room underwent such a miraculous transformation. From a four-cornered room filled with feathers and streaking half ferrets, the area suddenly became one of the cleanest and most orderly vicinity in Hogwarts with all of the feathers and half-changed ferrets gone and the chairs and tables in their proper position. It was then that she realized that she was not very well alone in the supposed to be deserted classroom.  
  
Minerva saw Ms. Madley still crouched at the floor with her bag and was still struggling with her things when Professor McGonagall straightened up the classroom.  
  
What a perfect opportunity to speak with this girl. Minerva thought, walking down from the platform and approaching the petite little girl.  
  
"I'm sorry, Professor," she said automatically as she sensed Professor McGonagall walking her way. "I-I'll be off now."  
  
"I noticed that you've been a bit preoccupied, Ms. Madley," Minerva said, her hands clasped behind her back. "Is there something bothering you?"  
  
"Uh, no," Laura quickly answered, standing up, her back pack hurled at her shoulders, obviously preparing to leave. "I'll promise I'll be a lot attentive in the following discussions, Professor. I'm just a bit absent- minded these days. But I'll be better, promise."  
  
"Will you?" Minerva said, still standing directly in front of Laura and purposely blocking her path. "Are you sure it will go away just after a few days?"  
  
"I'm positive, Professor," Laura replied, a hint of annoyance evident in her voice. "Look, if you're talking about what happened in today's class, I'm not the only one who messed up."  
  
"I'm not talking about today's class, Ms. Madley," Minerva said, still as calm as ever. "I'm talking about some other more serious things here."  
  
"Well, whatever it is, Professor, with all due respect," she said, standing up straighter. "I'm sure we could discuss it some other time. I'm going to be late for my next class."  
  
"Who's you're next class Ms. Madley?"  
  
"Potions," she answered. "With Professor-"  
  
"Snape," Minerva finished for her. "Yes, I know."  
  
Laura looked at her expectantly.  
  
"I'm sure we could deal with Professor Snape later on," Minerva said. "In the meantime, let's take a seat and talk for a minute."  
  
There is an audible sight of frustration coming from Ms. Madley's direction as she sat down in one of the chairs, with her Professor in front of her, but Minerva let it slip. She could not blame the girl for being irritated about her meddlesome teacher. But this is a serious matter and a matter that should be talked about and brought in public.  
  
"What is this about, Professor?" Laura inquired, looking at Minerva in the eye for the very first time since the start of the forced conversation.  
  
"It's about." Minerva started, but could not continue. What was she supposed to say to this girl?  
  
"About what?" she again asked, genuine curiosity present in her eyes.  
  
"Have you ever been." Minerva again began, but was cut off as a tornado of emotions and memories came crashing through her mind. She closed her eyes as she fought back tears of memory and pain.  
  
"Look, Professor," Laura again said, standing from her seat. "I really have to go. Even if you talk to Professor Snape, he will still cut my head off if I don't pass his written exam that will consist of today's lesson. So please-"  
  
"Who was it, Laura?" Minerva finally said, as she too rose from the wooden chair that she was sitting on. "Who did this to you?"  
  
"Who did-"  
  
"Who was he?" Minerva, driven by her angry emotions that were currently resurfacing in her brain, bombarded Laura with questions. "When did this happen?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Where? How?"  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about!"  
  
"Don't lie to me, Laura! What happened?"  
  
"I--"  
  
"What did he do?"  
  
"He-"  
  
"WHO WAS HE, LAURA?"  
  
"HE WAS MY FATHER!"  
  
"What?" Minerva's shouting suddenly scaled down into an almost silent whisper. She had not been expecting this. How. how could a father.  
  
It was when McGonagall finally got her presence of mind that she realized that Laura sat back again on the wooden chair and was now crying as if she has got no tears to shed anymore. Minerva felt her heart contract as she saw the façade of a normally jolly and innocent girl crumpled into dust, as she cried as if there's no tomorrow. She was tempted to embrace and comfort the poor girl but she could not, for the reason that she does not have the slightest idea how to do so. Instead, she just there, her own tears, brimming at the edge of her eyelashes.  
  
"When did this happen?" Minerva slowly and quietly asked Laura sometime later when her crying turned down a bit.  
  
"This. this summer vacation," she said in an almost inaudible voice.  
  
"What happened?" Minerva asked. She knew that this is not her business anymore, but she's already involved now, and there's no turning back.  
  
After a long deep breath, it seemed that Laura was ready to tell everything. Ready to confide everything to her Transfiguration teacher.  
  
"It was a dreary cold evening that day of August twenty-first."  
  
//It was a lifeless and cold late afternoon.//  
  
"I was at home alone, sitting at my table in my room and looking out the window, waiting for my mother to arrive, when I heard footsteps and voices coming up the stairs."  
  
//She was walking in a dark alley on her way home from an errand when she heard footsteps on the wet pavement and voices coming from behind her.//  
  
"I turned around and saw my father staring at me with an indescribable and unnerving sort of look. I asked him what's wrong but he just continued to stare at me with malice and. lust."  
  
//She turned around and saw somebody coming her way. He was eyeing her with those lust filled eyes that made her uneasy and nervous.//  
  
"My heart began to pound when he would not take his eyes off me and answer my questions. He approached me with a corrupt air, and then. I knew."  
  
//She turned the other way around and saw another two men, who are also approaching her with the same lust filled eyes and cruel smirks. They were cornering her in the dark wet alley. then she knew.//  
  
"He first roughly grabbed my hands and dragged me to my own bed, and shoved me to it. He then put himself on top of me and started kissing me in a repulsive way, and forced me to stop pushing him back. I tried, believe me I tried to get away from him but he was too strong."  
  
//She tried to run for it but it was too late, the three cornered her, held her arms wide and pinned it into the rough and cutting wall behind her. The other two held her hands so she could not move and the other one started doing things to her. Horrible things. She tried in vain to push him away, but they were too strong.//  
  
"My wand. my wand was in my cabinet since you can't do magic out of school and there's no way that I could get it. I felt so powerless and weak and felt the spiteful pain of hopefulness. He ripped my clothes off and as I felt the cold pain of being used. He suddenly and out of nowhere took a rope beneath my bed and tied my hands to the corners of it. The rough ropes cut the skin of my hand, but even then, I could do nothing but endure the pain."  
  
//They were also smart for their kind. They took her wand from her pocket, snapped it in half and threw it away. She had lost her only hope. They started ripping her clothes off and doing things to her body, touching places that shouldn't be touched. She tried to push away with all her might, but he fight was three to one. There was nothing she could do but endure the pain...//  
  
"After he was done with me I wondered why he didn't just stun me. It would've made it much easier for him. Why did he have to let me feel the sting, the soreness, the pain of what he did to me."  
  
//They took turns into doing her, and when they were finally done, they left her alone, quivering in the coldness of the evening with no clothes on and no energy to run for her life or to even stand up. She suddenly heard some talk about the perfection of having live tasty meat to play with when they were already walking away. Now she felt as used as ever.//  
  
"After that, he told me not to tell anybody about what happened," Laura continued. "I was in so much pain and depression that I could not even speak. He threatened me that he would kill my mother if I did as much as mention any part or anything that has something to do with it to her. And I love my mom, I would do anything for her. so I kept quiet."  
  
There was a brief pause as neither of them could speak in the despair and misery of the situation. The once brightly lit walls of the classroom now seemed so gray and ancient. Minerva too, was attacked by the memories of that night, and it seemed so overwhelming that she could hardly speak and fight back the tears that were threatening to fall from her eyes.  
  
"We're going to do something about this, Laura," Minerva said, standing up and heading to her desk at the front of the classroom.  
  
"But my father," Laura was supposed to say when Professor McGonagall cut him off.  
  
"Your father must pay for what he did." Minerva said, fierce determination evident in her voice. "He must and will pay. Trust me on that."  
  
Laura surprisingly remained silent. And that was the end of their discussion as Minerva let Laura silently walked out of the desolate room, her mind still clouded with unwanted thoughts and ferocious willpower to do what is right and to have justice.  
  
Minerva McGonagall never had the justice that she so truly deserves for what had happened to her. In fact, nobody ever knew, with an exclusion of her mother who already passed away. She told her at her last remaining breath and Minerva never knew what her reaction was. She never had any justice to those horrid things that took place, but she won't let that happen to young Ms. Madley. She is just at the brink of her life, and Minerva vowed at that very moment, at her mom's grave, that Laura Madley is going to have justice. No matter what it takes she's going to have justice and have some of her integrity and self-respect back. Minerva is going to make sure of that.  
  
=====+=+=+====  
  
A/N: I just invented the first names of Trelawny and Sprout. If they have canon first names, please tell me and I would gladly change them to their proper identifications. Thanks.  
  
A/N2: A contrary to what you think, Laura Madley is actually a canon character. She was one of the students who got sorted into Hufflepuff in Harry's fourth year. So please don't bombard me with comments about inventing a new character. You can check it in your books if you like. (",)  
  
A/N3: I have not yet decided if I'm going to make a part two of McGonagall's story or if I'm just going to slip some comments on the other teacher's chapter to tell you guys what happened. Tell me what you think.  
  
REVIEW!!! 


	3. Defense Against the Dark Arts 2nd Year

Title: The Soul of a Teacher  
  
Author: Althea  
  
Disclaimer: Gilderoy Lockhart and all canon characters/places are from the ingenious JK Rowling. (Go Book 5!) The other characters/places that you do not recognize is mine, and also the plot. Also, the five lines of a song that I forgot what the title was is also not mine. You can leave the title of the song that got stuck in my head after watching the fabulous movie, Moulin Rouge in the Review board if you want.  
  
Summary: It's time to take a break from the Hogwarts' students and now give our attention to the other, some might say, less dynamic but definitely more knowledgeable and 'been there, done that' teachers and staff. This is their life, this is their story. this is their souls.  
  
((Every chapter will deal with a certain individual teacher and his/her life. Supposed to be a companion piece/prologue to my other fic, "The Final Battle" hint, hint, on Snape's chapter in which Hogwarts is under attack by the Dark Lord and it's up to Harry and his friends to defend their dear school. Please read it and review also. (",).))  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Spoilers: All four books  
  
Timeline: The summer vacation after Harry's fourth year  
  
Author's Note: Hey, thanks for all who reviewed, you guys are the best! Thank you also for the wonderful Mr./Ms. Reviewer for giving me Trelawny's canon first name ::waves:: (Sorry I forgot your name.). I'm not going to replace the second chapter anymore because I've already deleted the notes and stuff, and the chapter's now off to the betas for FA.org. I'm going to use Trelawny's canon first name of course in her own little chapter. The reason why I didn't gave more descriptions etc. to Snape's story is because each division is supposed to be just a POV ficlet about their lives and such. I kind of overdid McGonagall's part. Oh, well, here's chapter three: Defense Against the Dark Arts (2nd Year)  
  
A/N2: I will not make a Part 2 of McGonagall's chapter anymore because I find it already severely tiresome and boring. What I will do is mention some things in the NEXT chapter (since Gilderoy is not in Hogwarts anymore) that will let you all know what happened. Don't worry, you will still find out what will become of Laura Madley and such.  
  
-=o=-  
  
The Soul of a Teacher  
  
Chapter Three: Defense Against the Dark Arts (2nd year)  
  
It was a barren wasteland. The wood was rotting and ductile, and smelled of decaying insects. Beads of water were dripping from the light damage in the ceiling, an unaffectionate gift from the splattering rain above the roof. The room was particularly small, unfurnished with only small beams of faint light illuminating the desolate surroundings. It was a room in the hostile surroundings at the downtown area of a muggle community. Later, Gilderoy would wonder himself why and how he got there.  
  
Pests and various small filthy animals were often seen scurrying round the area. And that wet, gloomy Monday afternoon was not an exception.  
  
A blond, fairly built, but utterly disheveled middle-aged man was slouched in the far-off corner of the said room, rocking back and forth together with the rhythmic thumping of the scattering rain further above his head. He was wearing not his once usual elegant midnight blue or emerald green robes but he was togged up in his now foul and sullied dirty white rags that he passed off as clothes.  
  
No one knew, not even himself, what had happened to the once famous and valued writer, named Gilderoy Lockhart. He was just at the verge of his successful career, with every middle-aged women swooning over his feet, his books selling thousand of copies and him winning the Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award five times in a row. Why he was there now, the once distinguished, but phony writer and celebrity, he could only think again and again what had happened to his supposed to be almost perfect and glamorous life. What had happened to his past that now seemed too foggy to even think of.  
  
A hurricane of thoughts ran through his mind as he sat there, just waiting for something that will not happen, waiting for something that will never come up to his life ever again. He remembered the start of this whole fiasco, he reminisce the time when he started writing books about how valiant and courageous he was when all of those things that are in the book was made by other witches and warlocks. He stole it from them then made them all forgot that they ever did such a thing. What a wonderful idea, yes it was, and seemingly foolproof too.  
  
But as his past became clearer these past two years, he noticed that he was not remembering the pleasant and delightful things that happened in his life, but the regretful and contrite ones that took place far before all of those. He started to recall the painful ones, which were the numerous moments before his borrowed fame and prominence. In fact, the memory of it was too vivid to ignore.  
  
-=o=-  
  
There was a boy  
  
A very strange, enchanted boy.  
  
-=o=-  
  
~//"You're a disgrace to this family, do you know that?" his father had once shouted right at his face, veins bulging through his thick corpulent neck, and a half-empty bottle swinging from his left hand. He was drunk. Gilderoy knew that, but he was only eleven years old at the time and therefore very helpless if ever his father suddenly decided to quench his thirst for inhumane violence on him. It was an abnormal addiction that he often put on his own son and his own wife, Gilderoy's mother, whenever he was drunk or just plain angry, which he was unfortunately both, right at that very moment.  
  
"Father." he tried to calm his own father down, in a futile attempt to escape this horrible quandary "I."  
  
"Shut up!" he bellowed, taking another swing of the alcoholic liquid that he was clutching at his hand. "Don't call me father, I have no son," Then he paused as if weighing what he had just said. The child remained silent, but fear could be clearly seen in his large curious but innocent blue eyes. "Have you realized how and what I felt when I realized that you're nothing but a sissy, weak-hearted, feeble little child, who's good for nothing but getting himself beat up into a stupid idiotic pulp?"  
  
The young Gilderoy remained uncommunicative, now too scared to speak. And even if did he find the voice to share what was on his mind, what could he say anyway? He knew that it was again one of the many insulting tantrums that his father was having and therefore cannot be controlled even if his mother were there, which providentially she isn't.  
  
"I raised you to be better than any of those reckless wizard children that you see running around the street, living life as if it was too predictable and that they have the complete grasp and control of it," his father continued, his beer swinging more wildly. He was now swaying uncontrollably, knocking things off their proper placement all over the dark and gloomy place that they call their home. "But no, you just have to disappoint me and your mother once more, adding the ever growing humiliation that seems to come automatically together with our family name."  
  
"My mother doesn't care about that," young Gilderoy suddenly spoke up. "She never told me that I was an idiot or a disappointment or a regret to this family or anything like that. Why is it that only you, my own father is the only one that I can't seem to make proud of me? Why can't I make you appreciate my achievements, no matter how little they are or how small they may seem?"  
  
In his amazement, his father unexpectedly laughed.  
  
So, the alcohol in his blood is finally taking its toll, he realized while watching his father's eyes ran out of focus. Gilderoy just hoped that he would still be alive or not beaten into a bloody little mush when his father finally black off.  
  
"You're achievements? You're achievements?! My, my. I did not know that you even have those!" his father mocked, grinning stupidly at him. "And what might those be, I dare ask? Was getting teased by your so-called friends an achievement for you? Was proving yourself a sissy in front of everybody was what you call an accomplishment? Was showing to every wizard in the whole wizarding world, including my crowd, my own circle, even your mother's friends that you are nothing but a complete idiotic, brainless, HOMOSEXUAL piece of worthless crap! Is that what you call your achievements?"  
  
Gilderoy gaped at his father in absolute horror. How did he know? He had been so cautious. So careful.  
  
"I'm not-" the young Lockhart still tried even though he just knew that there's already no hope.  
  
"Don't ridicule me!" his dad spat. Taking yet another swing from his beer bottle. "I'm not blind child, and I am definitely NOT stupid! Do you think that you can deceive me? Did you think that you could HIDE that fact from me? I'm not as dense as you think you stupid miserable bit of malodorous garbage!"  
  
At that time, what is going on in Gilderoy's brain is that there is absolutely no hope for him to survive that staggering incident even remotely alive.  
  
"You're a disgrace to this honorable family, have I told you that?" his father again bawled.  
  
"Yes, twice already," Gilderoy said flatly. At least if he's going to die, he's going to leave this cruel world, sarcastic and cynical.  
  
"Don't you dare mock me! GET OUT!" his father heartlessly bellowed.  
  
It had taken all of Gilderoy's inner strength not to ask: "Get out where?" Instead, he just gawked stupidly at his steaming father.  
  
"Get out of this house!" the smoldering older man roared. "Get out of my house! You are NOT my son anymore! GO AWAY! GET OUT!"  
  
The young Gilderoy Lockhart might never know, as he reluctantly moved slowly out of the great big gates of his home, dragging his feet as he go out of the supposed to be sanctuary fortress for him, that the reason for his father's sudden outbreak and the motive of kicking him out of the house of his said callous father is that he was afraid that he might hurt and kill his only son.  
  
Yes, he was terrified at the thought of having to take the life of his own son with his own bloody hands. He was still his child after all, no matter what he did, no matter what happened. In the long run, even though he might not admit it face to face if anybody cared enough to ask him, he doesn't care who his son was, he is still his own blood. His immortality! He is still the last best creation as a Lockhart! And he's not going to risk his solitary legacy just for the kick of his anomalous thirst for ruthless brutality.  
  
He still loved his son, even in the tiniest incarnations and events that he showed that mere fact. But even as Gilderoy's father felt the tears ran from his eyes to his stubble cheeks, his son could and would never know that his father cared about him even in the smallest possible way.//~  
  
-=o=-  
  
Then he said to me.  
  
The greatest thing you'll ever learn  
  
Is just to love, and be loved. in return.  
  
-=o=-  
  
A quick thunderous lighting sliced from the sky, illuminating just for a second the adverse ambiance that Gilderoy Lockhart was in at the present time.  
  
He shuddered at the cold chill of the air that was coming from the broken glass window just behind his shivering body, and was all of a sudden brought back to the time when he was just at the same condition as he was right at that pathetic moment. To quote a famous expression, he remembered that distinct painful memory as if that event happened just yesterday.  
  
-=o=-  
  
~//The wind was unpleasantly cold and downright freezing. He had been walking for miles and miles just at the village near their house, looking for some sort of shelter that he could use as a barrage from the chill, or just someone who's kind enough to even help that little pitiable and weak eleven-year-old who had been kicked out from his own home by his very own father.  
  
But unfortunately, this experience just made little Gilderoy believe that there isn't really is a kind and loving soul left in this whole biased and prejudiced world, to help even just a little his damned existence as a dishonor to his family and just a meaningless space in the universe.  
  
He wondered far and wide, just walking at the wet and slippery deserted sidewalk, feeling the unforgiving splattering rain above his head drizzling down at his previous damp hair and clothes. It was when that he could not take the cold and his growing fatigue anymore that he unconsciously collapsed right at that very sidewalk. The hard cement felt so rough against his smooth cheek and the force of the impact was, fortunately insubstantial enough, to not give him permanent brain damage or just to blow his brains out.//~  
  
-=o=-  
  
Oh yes, he remembered that sorrowful incident as he sat there, gazing thoughtlessly into the darkness, observing the black shadows that seems to dance through the desolate room that he was currently calling home.  
  
But of course, for every evil there is good, since neither would exist without the other one. And some even might believe that the same thing goes for pain. And the young boy with a hopeless and indefinite future proved to be a living proof of it. For every pain, there's also ecstasy waiting to happen, waiting to be felt. Oh, yes there is.  
  
-=o=-  
  
~//If it was just coincidence or not, Gilderoy might never know because when he fell unconscious right there on the cobblestones, he woke up not in it but in a beautifully decorated room. Stylish furniture was all over the wide interior of the said area, and he can feel the soft texture of the silk that compose the thick but comfy bed and comforter that he was wrapped around in.  
  
There was a second there that young Gilderoy wondered if he had already died and gone to heaven. But as he looked outside, behind the striking elegance of the life-size window and saw still the pouring rain outside, he realized that this was still the hell that he was living in. Just clothed in an exquisite façade of this stunning house that he was currently in.  
  
Wherever he is, he did not have to wonder long because at that moment, a man entered through the door, and his life was changed forever.//~  
  
-=o=-  
  
Because of that incident, because of that man, he finally got his life back on track, and there may be actually a definite bright future ahead of him, Gilderoy could only hope.  
  
Five years had passed and that unfamiliar room that the eleven-year-old boy suddenly woke up from became his second home. Whatever happened, whoever said to that kind and munificent that he obviously needed help, Gilderoy could only care less, because from the moment that his to-be-father walked in that great big doors of the foreign room and asked him the young boy various questions about who he is and what happened, he inadvertently found his new home, his new family.  
  
It was when that he saw on the Daily Prophet that news that nearly broke his almost perfect life into pieces. It was in the headlines, and there's no way to escape the horrible truth.  
  
His father killed his mother.  
  
But even if his own father is now in trial for a lifetime in Azkaban, Gilderoy could not care less. The painful fact still remains.  
  
His father killed his mother.  
  
His father, the one who was always drunk, the one who always practices his invented hexes on him killed his mother. His own goddamn wife!  
  
At that exact moment, he felt that cut slice and sting of that cold sensation of grief and regret. Why he did not returned for his mother when he got his brand new life is the thoughts that was seemed to be stuck at the roof of his brain and at the core of his heart. It had been days before he recovered, thinking that it was all in the past now and there's nothing that he can do anyways, why waste time thinking about it?  
  
And as the present Gilderoy Lockhart sat there, listening to the softening thumping of the rhythmic rain that turned into a light drizzle just a few minutes ago, above the almost collapsing roof, he realized that his life is not that bad after all. Yes, his childhood is painful. Yes, he suffered so many discriminations and torment in his life but yet; there is still that happiness that seeped through his heartbreaking life.  
  
What was an eternity of torture for that one single moment of happiness?  
  
But Gilderoy got to admit that after that faithful day, his life did not continue to be perfect and free of problems.  
  
His foster parents, his wonderful and loving second parents died in a Voldemort related massacre. It was after that that he decided that he just has to leave this magnificent new life that he had been gifted and pursue other aspects of life.  
  
He traveled far and wide the wizarding world using the fairly big amount of fortune that he inherited from his second family, and there he was when all of those schemes happened. There he met those, one could say, unfortunate witches and warlocks that met the end of their wonderful and cherished memories. Memories and recollections that are now in the hands of Gilderoy Lockhart.  
  
Oh, his master trained him perfectly well, but it's not his fault that he can't understand or do a thing right. But there it is, his Memory Charms, they were absolutely perfect and ingenious.  
  
And of course, to again quote a legendary saying, one could say that the rest was history.  
  
Thousand of books, photographs, his mad passion for fame and fortune, Harry Potter, the Chamber of Secrets, blah, blah, blah. Those were the times that seemed too vague and muddled to recall.  
  
Then obviously, just to end the long and strenuous story of his senseless life, he ended up here, in an inhospitable muggle community after Madam Pomfrey tried to fix his memory back, now banished from the wizarding world because of the downfall of his career as his humiliating secret was printed all over the Daily Prophet.  
  
The rain had stopped and a small but distinct ray of light shines through the small cracks in the almost collapsing ceiling. The air smells and feels damp and sticky to the skin. Those beams of warming light were like an omen to him. A radiance that seemed to bring him hope and joy in the most desperate and distressing part of his life. And as he looked around the space that he was in, he perceived that it was just the same gloomy place that he was in minutes before when the rain was at its hardest. But still, there's something vaguely different about it.  
  
It was a barren wasteland. The wood was rotting and ductile, and smelled of decaying insects. The room was particularly small, unfurnished with only small beams of faint light illuminating the desolate surroundings. It was a room in the hostile surroundings at the downtown area of a muggle community.  
  
A blond, fairly built, but utterly disheveled middle-aged man was slouched in the far-off corner of the said room, but he had finished rocking back and forth, probably the main reason is that the rain had already stopped, and there was no rhythmic pattern for him to follow anymore. He was wearing not his once usual elegant midnight blue or emerald green robes but he was togged up in his now damp and sullied dirty white rags that he passed off as clothes.  
  
But even as he sat there, staring foolishly into the now none existent shadows that were once there in his room, in his mind, he realized that this is not the end. His career might never recover and his life was at the moment far from pleasant, but as he gazed at the small beams of light that was seeping through the cracks in the ceiling, he became conscious of the mere fact that. there is still a chance and there is still this unique possibility that he may actually survive from this terrible ordeal, this staggering phase that his life had gone through.  
  
And from that moment, he started to look at his life in a new light. After every dark night that passes, there is still that beautiful dawn that you anticipated, right?  
  
And behind those dark rain clouds, if you did look hard enough, there is that rainbow that waiting to appear. You just have to have that different perspective in things and the will and hope that will help you make it through. And for Gilderoy Lockhart's case, yes, he noticed that there is still hope, in the pretense of that little beams of faint light that was shining and seeping through his worn-down ceiling.  
  
(-)~(-)~(-)~(-)~(-)  
  
Author's Note: I am now borrowing Cassie's flameproof igloo just because of this sheer fact: Gilderoy Lockhart in this (my) HP fic is GAY. Yes, he's utterly HOMOSEXUAL. It's only fiction guys; it won't change the outcome of the books. (",)  
  
A/N2: I had trouble writing a humane character for Gilderoy Lockhart because he's just so damn annoying in the book! Please don't flame me for OOC!Lockhart because he's supposed to be out of character. He's insane. He's depressed. And you may notice that I repeated the first two paragraphs of the chapter. I did that on purpose, please don't flame me for that. I tried to put depth and relativity to him (although I have no idea if I succeeded) and that's the reason for this series anyway. To add profundity and deeper disposition to our dear teachers who still remains insignificant in the books. Cheers!  
  
A/N3: Does anybody know if these following teachers have first names? Please notify me, I'm having trouble searching for their canon first names. That is if they do have one. You can post it in the Review board if you want.  
  
Professors: Binns (History of Magic), Flitwick (Charms), Hooch (Quidditch), Sprout (Herbology) and Sinistra (Astronomy).  
  
And if they don't have one, you can send suggestions of what their first names should be for the later chapters. Thanks!  
  
REVIEW!  
  
Pls. Pls. Pls. (Heh.) 


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